


Weak

by MistressSiM



Series: Weak [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: (names are the same though), Cunnilingus, F/M, Genderswap, Multiple Orgasms, Penis In Vagina Sex, Porn with Feelings, man, woah look at those tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 01:43:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2210988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressSiM/pseuds/MistressSiM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's made him weak, he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weak

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt on the kink meme: 
> 
> "Simple male!Annie/female!Armin smut. I'm desperately thirsty for it and I don't know why. Established relationship and same names prefered but not necessary. 
> 
> ++ Starts out gentle and slow and gets progressively more passionate.  
> +++++ PiV  
> +++++++++ Multiple orgasms for fem!Armin."
> 
> Edit: 07/24/2015: Fixed formatting and small errors.

She's already shuddered her way through her first orgasm of the evening when she buries her face in the crook of his neck, blushing down to her small breasts. She presses her front against his, her chest heaving. Her nipples, peaked and pretty in the cold, brush teasingly against his pectoral muscles.  


"Don't be coy," Annie says, pressing the pad of his thumb against her jerking clit in a short fit of vindictiveness. Armin gasps, canting her hips away from his hand, batting at his arm. The pained little noises that fall from her lips don't sound any different from the noises she makes in the throes of passion. His cock twitches.

Feeling just the slightest twinge of guilt, Annie slides his hands up her sides. His hands completely span the length of her ribs (she'd once told him that she feels pretty when he does this, and isn't that an odd thing, girls are strange, the only thing he feels when he holds her like this is the blank finality that comes with knowing he could crush her if he wanted to), pressed taut against finely muscled flesh. He lifts her from his lap with a murmured warning, and then guides her to lay back against the cot. It's tattered and old, most of its stuffing long since disintegrated with age and neglect, and for a moment he's regretful he can't lay her against the plush overstuff pillows the Sina trash must take for granted.

She's made him weak, he thinks.

They don't have as much time as he'd like. Today is a rare day off, but they still have curfews and boundaries to stay within while on the grounds. By now, Annie is well aware that Armin will be missed by her friends, and mostly her overprotective shadows. 

(He wonders what Eren would think, if he knew that this is just one of many times he's had Armin beneath him, played her body like a fine-tuned instrument. Would he be angry? Would he be jealous?)

(He decides, a moment later, that thought of Eren Jaeger should be abandoned if he wants to maintain his arousal.)

Annie presses a kiss onto the lone freckle on Armin's left collarbone. This one blemish, so stark against the rest of her smooth, pale skin, drives him mad sometimes. When the collar of her shirts slip during the days, the sight of it sends a wild thrill down his spine. Somehow, it's even better when Eren angrily yanks the fabric back up, hiding her flaw from the world. Annie has seen it up close, kissed it, and licked it, and bitten it until Armin was thrashing beneath him.

He laves kisses up the elegantly presented arch of her neck, at the ticklish area just beneath her jaw. His lips quirk at the way her breathless giggle tapers off into a moan when he runs his tongue over the skin. His hands travel to her hips, caressing the fleshy skin there, and then teasingly brush past the golden curls at her sex, to her thighs. He grips them in his hands and spreads them, intently. Armin likes to play games, likes to provoke him into something like anger (it is never true anger, because he isn't strong enough to hate her like he should), so he's not surprised when she bites her lips and tries to close them around his shoulders.

He rolls his eyes at her, kisses the pinkened space between her breasts, kisses down her stomach and at her hip bones. Despite his irritation, he can't help the reluctant surge of affection that rolls through him at the sight of her summer blue eyes, blown wide with arousal. Her bangs stick wetly to her flushed face, some of the longer strands stuck between her pouting, kiss-swollen lips. She is a vision of messy beauty, so different from the sweet but vaguely unapproachable front she puts up around the rest.

She goes boneless when he lands a secretive little kiss at her mons, moans in anticipation. He takes the opportunity to spread her thighs once more, and buries his head between them before she can deter him. He spreads the slick lips of her sex, licks a low stripe from her entrance to her clit, gently, honestly fearful of hurting her again. Armin is nothing if not honest with him, open about what's acceptable and what's not, and he's already toed the line—another slight, and she will leave.

He wraps his lips around her clit and sucks, groaning when her hand flies to his hair, curling it tightly in her fingers. He looks up, entranced by the way the sun catches against her sweat-slicked skin, the curved arch of her throat, the bouncing of her breasts with each aborted thrust of her hips. Her other hand curls tightly into the cot below. He slides a finger inside her, groaning again at the way she clenches around him, already fluttering with the tell-tale signs of an encroaching orgasm. She is sensative, so sensative she can come at the littlest of things, and often, moaning and whimpering and thrashing.

(She'd once come from simply grinding against his thigh, and it had been a hard climax, one that left her pliable and shuddering and sated in the circle of his arms.)

"Annie," she hisses. He curls his finger against her inner walls, twirls the tip of his tongue around the hood of her clit. She gives a high pitched gasp, and soon, she's bucking against his face, hungry for it, her hand doing little more but holding his head in place as she rolls her hips against his face.

He thinks it is the eye contact that does her in. The moment she opens her eyes to look down, locks gazes with him, realizes that he has been watching her the whole time, she shatters. She comes as she always does, loud and wild, hips jerking in a staccato rhythm against his mouth, her brows furrowed. He has to grind against the cot to grant himself some well-needed friction to his throbbing erection. It's probably drooling with precum now, brought on by her open enjoyment of his ministrations. This is the Armin he likes the most, feral in the chase for satisfaction, vulnerable, accepting of the pleasure he wants to bring her.

Annie works her through it, his single finger thrusting slow, his lips pursed against her clit, jerking lightly with aftershocks.

"Annie." Armin hums, and he knows that this is one of times where she says his name just to say it, because she can, because it tastes good in her mouth. A string of her slick connects him to her when he moves away. He observes her twitching sex with smug interest.

Armin releases a sigh. The cot squalls in protest when she falls against it with a tiny grunt. He doesn't have to look to know that her eyes are probably falling closed.

"No," he growls. I'm not done with you."

He shimmies up the bed, rubs a soothing hand over her twitching stomach despite his irritation with her. He wipes the stray wetness from his face onto the cot, and then captures her mouth in a kiss. She sighs in approval, probably at the taste of herself on his tongue.

"I know," she hums. "Come on, come on."

He ignores her soft urging, waits until he's satisfied that she's ready for him. Then he scoffs at himself, because no matter how hard he tries to treat her sweetly, this is the part where he always fails. He wants her, wants everything about her. He wants to strip her to the basest element of herself and then consume her, have her sink into his skin so he doesn't have to eventually wean himself off of her scent and her touch and her smell. He would probably love her, were this another life. But this is not another life, and it certainly isn't one where gets to play at love, or the chance of a future with her.

Armin sits up on her elbows, and spreads her thighs widely as he shuffles into the space between them, his erection bobbing with each movement. God, she's presenting herself to him, lifting her hips just so, her entrance fluttering around nothing. He grips her thighs again, and presses them to her chest, thankful for her flexibility. She watches him unabashedly as he lines himself up against her, and he watches her back, because he wants to see her face as she takes his girth.

She does the same thing she always does—her mouth falls open, her breathing stops, her eyelids flutter. She gasps when he bottoms out.

"Fuck," he can't help but say it. His hips surge minutely, just to take the edge off. He stops to give himself a moment, but knows instinctively that he will not last long.

"I can take it," Armin informs him, her voice unfairly even. "I know you want to."

And by this she means that she knows he wants to lose himself, rut into her like a wild animal, bury his face in her crown and selfishly lose himself in her smell and his own pleasure.

For once, he doesn't feel like arguing with her. He feels her hand following a familiar trail down her body to bring herself pleasure. He starts a punishing rhythm. The very idea of her bringing herself off has him keening needily.

Armin is hot and tight around him, wet enough for obscene, slick sounds to join the familiar smack of skin against skin. She gives an answering cry with each roll of his hips, thrusting himself as deep inside of her as he can, his toes curling at the way she clenches each time his balls meet her ass.

It is nasty, and wild and hot, and she is perfect, baring herself for him in the best way possible. She can't meet his thrusts, not with the way his hands dig deep into her thighs—there will most definitely be finger-shaped bruises there come morning, he hopes she waits before she showers with the other girls, because Mikasa will surely be on the prowl like a cat stalking a mouse—but she does her best to compensate, her muscles clenching with each inwards thrust, fluttering hungrily with every outwards drag.

It isn't long before his vision spots black at the corners, a warmth pooling in his belly. As if on cue, Armin comes again, too tired to do much more than whimper piteously through it. It's weaker than her last two, and shorter, but it's enough to send him over the edge, her body fluttering wildly around his length. He gives one last aborted thrust before his body locks up.  
He sobs through it, Armin cooing soothing words at him (and it isn't right, he should be the one calming her down, rubbing her back and whispering praise in her ear, but he never has been one for words, and he never will be).

After collecting himself, he slides his flaccid cock out of her, curiosily watching as his spend flows from her body. Armin cradles his face and brings him in for another kiss. The softness of it is his version of an apology.

She's made him weak, he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> I have the misfortune of having a phone as my main hub for the the Internet.  
> Since this is one of my shorter fills, I was able to move this over here, and clean it up a little. Hopefully, I'll be able to move all my fills here once I can get to a computer.
> 
> I'm definitely going to write more for this particular universe (or maybe just a series of AUs centered around a genderswapped Armin), but it might be a while before I can get the other works up. If you want to read more, please be patient!
> 
>  
> 
> Kudos and comments (especially!!) are appreciated!


End file.
